


Nightmares By Design (True Story)

by IAmUmbreon11



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom, Five Nights at Freddy's, Real Person Fiction
Genre: I went through this for two years, It's actually a true story, Nightmares, no i dont need a hug but thanks anyway, true story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 19:16:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13688061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmUmbreon11/pseuds/IAmUmbreon11
Summary: Nightmares come in many forms. Mine took the forms of some very familiar robotic animals. And a clown.





	Nightmares By Design (True Story)

2\. Write a brief essay describing a person, place, or thing that scared you as a child(or as an adult, if you prefer). Choose sensory details that will make the reader feel the way you felt.

When I was nine, a friend played a prank on me. They showed me a horror game, specifically one called Five Nights at Freddy's, and refused to tell me what it was about, instead playing it in front of me. It piqued my interest, but I soon got bored and left, though not before the friend was jumpscared by Bonnie, the blurple rabbit animatronic.

That same year, I went to a birthday party. At said birthday party, someone else played a prank on me. They told me that the game was based off a true story, and from that night until when I was twelve, I was terrified.

See, in the game, every night at midnight, the animatronics in the game start moving. They hunt you, the player, down, and when/if they catch you, you die. Game over. Doesn't sound so scary, right? Well, here's the thing. In the game, you can't run away. You can only hold off the inevitable, or die.

In my young mind, this translated over into real life. I wouldn't move, wouldn't make a single sound, as my brain fabricated strange sounds. The creaks of the floorboards were a blurple rabbit, near black in the dark, with bright, glowing pink eyes and sharp teeth and claws, ready to pierce my skin and rip out my innards. The door opening did not herald my father's return from a buiness trip but a monstrous bear with tattered, matted fur and blood-stained claws, sharp teeth bared in a grin, and the tapping on the window was not a stray branch but a fox, slick with blood and rain, hook raised to smash the window into sharp, glittering shards and dive in, fully prepared to gut me in the most gruesome way possible. The stray bird hitting the window was not that, but a duck with a dirty, brown-smeared bib reading LET'S EAT!, mouth wide open to reveal a second set of teeth that could easily tear my soft flesh into ribbons, ready to devour me and chew up the bones.

(Actually, I wasn't that scared of the duck/chicken. I'm not sure if I even knew it existed. But I sure was scared of the others.)

(Also, no, blurple is not technically a word. But it still counts. It's the best way to describe him/her.)

Over time, as I watched the first friend play more horror games and began venturing onto YouTube, the monsters were joined by other monsters. My own parents, knife raised, lies at their lips, telling me they loved me as they slaughtered me. A ghostly apparation, all that was left of a horrible beast, with just enough power to murder me where I stood and use my blood as fuel. A blood-stained zombie, dark, bloody tears still running down its face as it walked around unsteadily, wobbly legs taking it to my closet, where it would lurk and wait for me to enter. A dog, red-and-gold pelt gleaming in the light of my lamp, sharp teeth ready to tear, rip, and shred me to bits if I stepped out, paws stained from the fresh blood of its last victim. A head and torso, all that remained of a great and powerful Pokemon trainer, wanting, NEEDING my body to use for itself, and waiting until it could rip my arms and legs off of me and leave me to die. A clown, because clowns are freaky. The clown was especially bad. It would wait just beside my bed, red hair poking up (though it was really just a stuffed animal), long, spider-like fingers tapping on the floor, waiting, waiting, waiting, endlessly....until I would step down. Then it would use long, sharp, scapel-like claws and banana-size, needle-sharp teeth to slowly, slowly, sLOWLY tear me apart, and weave my skin into a cloak of blood and tears.

And it all started at midnight.

Midnight was when my brain was programmed to go into overdrive, imagining fierce beasts ready to shred me like mozzerella cheese and eat me like a slice of pizza. And while the original beasts were joined by others, I never forgot them.

A bear. A fox. A bunny. (The duck didn't really appear, ever. I guess I couldn't really take her seriously.) All standing in wait, claws sharpened on my dad's knives, ready for me to open the door so that they can have their chance.

When I was eleven, the apparations started to disappear. My parents became their normal, loving selves. The dog was reduced to a neighbor's dog, which did bite me, but eventually even that disappeared. (Seriously. I haven't seen the neighbor's dog in ages. The mutt probably bit somebody else and got put down.) The Pokemon trainer's torso became just another shadow on the wall, cast by my lamp hitting a stuffed animal carelessly thrown on the bookshelf. The zombie was just another plastic skeleton I put in my closet, falling over because I had a habit of being a messy, cluttered person, and so stuffed animals were always falling down. The beast....just left. I don't know where to, or if it will come back, but I hope not. The clown also left, hopefully to go drown itself in the sewers. I HATE clowns.

But the original beasts still remained. They still lurked behind my shelf of stuffed animals, or behind the closet door, or in the bathroom cabinet. Their claws were just as sharp as always, their teeth doubly as large to make up for the absence of anything else, and their movements louder than usual. They moved about at night, laughing at me, taunting me for not being able to stop them. For being weak, and soft. For being a PERFECT meal.

When I was twelve, I told myself I was going to stop this fear. I took my laptop, and I downloaded every single one of those games, sans the second one. I don't know why I didn't download that one. 

Including FNaF World, which ended up being what banished the monsters. The other games fueled them; in my rage at being unable to defeat them, I accidentally added more monsters, each more horrific than the last. A rotted corpse, stuck inside a spring-loaded trap, hiding just behind that wall....or maybe that one? A pair of monstrous bears, teeth all over, hungry for human flesh.

And then FNaF World came along, with its adorable interpretations of these characters, and its fun-yet-mind-numbingly-dull gameplay. After Hours followed it, a funny free-roam game that featured Foxy wearing a baseball cap, of all things.

The monsters have gone now. They've been gone for a while.

All except for one....

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually a true story.  
> Comment your nightmares/critiques/other things down below!


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